Post by Roman Valence on Nov 25, 2012 1:21:36 GMT -5
Player: Josiah
Contact: PM me
Intentions: Neutral/Forger
Background
Name: Roman Valence
Race: Werelord
Species: Wolf, Demon Heritage
Age: 20
Tier: 3
Social
Place of Birth: Damian's Isle
Allegiances: Indirectly loyal to the Dragon Knights, financially and ideally
Aspirations: To live as normal a life as possible, possibly become a drover
Nicknames: Ro (By his friends), Romy (By his parents), Stud (Not by his parents)
Titles: None
Relatives: Ferr M. Valence (adoptive father), Marianna Valence, (adoptive mother), John O'Ryan (biological father, absent), Anna O'Ryan (biological mother, deceased)
Significant Other: plenty of others. None that significant, yet.
Mental
Personality: Roman's attitude is largely ruled by two elements: compassion, and adrenaline. In regards to the first, he tends to love almost everyone he sees. The opposite is even more true: he has trouble hating anyone. While that might just be because he hasn't met the right (or perhaps, the wrong) person, he also has a tendency to look beyond the surface - not with any assurance of finding, but optimistically searching for a kernel of goodness all the same. As such, he has a tremendous capacity for forgiveness and understanding, and is always willing to console those who need somebody to lean on. He's also always willing to do something for a high. A highly physical person, the rush of adrenaline is his drug of choice, and if the dancing partner is right, he's almost always up for a rush of a different kind. If he could spend his days laboring and his nights dancing, he'd be completely satisfied. He wouldn't want for anything more. Or so he tells himself. His subconscious has other ideas.
Likes: Physical labor, working with his hands, flying by night, night in general, dreaming, all kinds of meat
Dislikes: Reading books, being unable to console people, bright lights, arrogance, vegetables of all kinds
Strengths: He's developed a surprisingly strong sense of philosophy in learning how to deal with others and his own life, logical yet understanding. He's a listener, slow to judge and eager to help, and when he puts his mind to a task, attacks it with single-minded devotion. With his neutral, blasé yet positive attitude, he can remain calm and in control of his emotions in most situations, rarely getting angry or depressed.
Weaknesses: Like many "bleeding hearts," Roman has developed coping skills to get where he is. He, however, tends to overcompensate by following a simple rule: "only help those right in front of you." In following that rule, Roman has not only been forced to put metaphorical (and literal) blinders on, but has gone out of his way to avoid further responsibility. Also, though not naive by any means, he'll cop right to it: he's not the smartest person around - and that's fine by him. He has about as little motivation to get smarter as to change the world. If that means he needs a calculator to figure out multiples greater than five, or can't remember who the president was 20 years ago, so be it.
Physical
Major Details: Tan skin, ice blue eyes, short scruffy blond hair, facial scruff, 6'4" in human form - short black fur, large ears, 7'6" in werewolf form.
Appearance: The first thing most people notice is his grin: an incorrigible, mischievous grin all the way to the cheeks, brimming with confidence and optimism and threatening to do something else. Both his short hair and facial hair is scruffy and brownish blonde, giving off an overall appearance of gleeful nonchalance more akin to a surfer then a forger. That he has spent most of his teen life as the latter means that his body itself is muscularly athletic, toned and defined from physical work rather than built up from weightlifting. With an almost primal desire like some other werecreatures to wear as little as he can get away, that also means viewers frequently have the opportunity to count all eight abs down his front amid the white blonde downy hair that covers various parts of his body.
When transformed, his body takes on many of the characteristically lupine traits of the infamous werewolf, but with several subtle hints of something more. His teeth are large and razor sharp, even by were standards. Ice blue eyes practically glow at night. His ears are big and radar-like, more like some bats than a wolf's, and his oversized feet possess almost hand-like dexterity. His fur in this state is a short, obsidian black, clinging to his much larger physique - yet even with the associated physical growth of the transformation that makes him far bigger and stronger than any human, Roman's were form looks "lean" by were standards. To someone not paying much attention, he could almost pass as an exceptionally tall, muscularly athletic Wolffolk. Almost. The more feral, if not outright monstrous, qualities always shine through eventually.
When he channels his demonic side more fully, he can selectively bring out up to four other limbs - something he can do in either his human or were form. Two large leathery wings can sprout from his upper back, looking obviously bat-like in origin, and below them, a pair of long, whip-like tentacles can extend from his lower back, with full prehensile control of both of them. Similar to the "demonic tail" imagery, the tips can extend arrowhead-like prongs, and easily stab through obstacles with the force of a spear.
Natural Abilities: Roman has the abilities of a well-built man of his size, capable of lifting two hundred pounds and then some without factoring in his Enhanced Strength. His speed is no better or worse than an average athletic human normally. His were form likewise increases his speed and strength appropriately, and his hearing also increases dramatically. In either state, his mind has a highly developed (read: inhuman) ability to process sound, to the point of echolocation.
Natural Traits: Roman has the usual human traits untransformed. As a werewolf, he gains claws on his hands and feet, and powerful jaws to go with all his sharp canine fangs.
Strengths: Roman's body possesses remarkable endurance, with stamina to spare for most any physical activity. Whatever he's doing, there's a good chance he could go all night, nap for a few hours, then start up again. Big hands, well-used over the years, are as good with delicate polishing as they are at holding his body weight, suspended off the ground. The former of course feeds into his proficiency as a young forger and enchanter. The latter feeds into activities like rock wall climbing and parkour of course.
Weaknesses: He's no fighter. Roman has little to no combat experience, beyond a few bar room brawls. His reflexes and expectations are suited more toward running fast and dancing, then dodging fast and predicting another's attacks. Perhaps because of his were side, his demon side, or just the general mixture of the two, Roman also has several intense, physical cravings that he still fights with. He's an adrenaline junkie, with an over-developed sense of lust, and a few other dark undertones to rein in. His eyes are also incredibly photosensitive, to the point of extreme pain in midday, and he frequently must use a blindfold or shades to get by.
Magical
Specializations:
- Tier 1: Mental (Psychic), Proficiency 3.
- Tier 2: Written (Runes), Proficiency 3.
- Tier 3: Mental (Paradox), Proficiency 3. Roman can use his magic to "screw the rules" of reality, such as being in two (or more) places at once, creating something from nothing or making something nothing, or generally toying with gravity.
Visual Display: Roman's psychic and runic magic tends to glow with an orange wispy, almost firey light. Paradox magic veers more to a black and white celestial appearance.
Special Abilities:
Tier 0: Enhanced Recovery 1
Tier 1: Psychometry
Tier 2: Insight
Tier 3: Foresight
Bonus Special Abilities: En Strength 1, En Toughness 1, En Recovery 2
Heritage: En Sense (Hearing)
Transformed: En Strength 2
Unique Abilities: Roman can channel his demon heritage to grow bat-like wings and a pair of arrow-head tipped tentacles from his back.
Strengths: Roman has had the longest to get accustomed to his Psychic powers. He's an accomplished telepath and telekinetic, and (while he's rarely used it offensively) the advanced, pyrokinetic version of that makes forging an easier task: he always has flames on hand. While not as good an enchanter as his father, Ferr's tutelage has made him great in his own right. His heritage has also given him a greater endurance for casting to begin with, and he doesn't wear out as fast as some other mind mages do.
Weaknesses: Enchanting anything requires the right words, and Roman, with his intelligence, doesn't always remember them. He still uses a runic dictionary to get by sometimes. His own, personal brand of magic only showed up in the last two years, so he only knows how to use it for a few select tricks - and each trick has it's own problem. Being in two places at once tends to put a big strain on his focus, so he can't use it for too long and he can't create magical things from nothing. Trying to make a Phoenix feather just makes a Phoenix-looking feather. Conversely, to erase something magical takes a proportionate amount of power.
Inventory
Mundane: wallet
Magical: none
History
Growing up an orphan is rarely easy. Growing up an orphan on Damian's Isle, with the keen awareness that one day you'll turn into a monster, is even harder. Thankfully, there were at least a few mitigating circumstances in the young were-to-be's life that made his childhood passable, if not at least better then most young weres on the other side of the barrier.
Misery loves company, and with the frequently violent lifestyle forced upon most weres, the orphanage had no shortage of arrivals. Some were children bitten, survivors lacking in willing relatives to receive them until puberty. Others, like himself, were the child of were parentage, who for one reason or another, weren't a part of their life anymore. Roman's mother was said to have died in childbirth. His father ... left early. Or so he was told. He never met either.
But however they got there, it just didn't matter that much. They were kids. The lingering knowledge of their future didn't bother them as much, isolated as they were from most "normal" human beings. They, a "pack" of werekids, were normal to each other. They played ball like normal kids. They went to the beach like normal kids. They had annoying teachers and cheated off each other like normal kids. The monthly curfew before moon-rise was all most of them had ever known, so that didn't seem too bad. With their own kind, there was a rarely-found sense of normalcy...
Except for Roman. Among his companions, he was well-liked, amicable, talented at sports and seemingly always there when someone was down. With his ever present baseball cap, he seemed happy, positive, and well adjusted. If someone had been paying more attention, they might have noticed there was something off about him. Thing of it is, "hearing voices" isn't part of being a were. "Hearing voices that are actually other people's thoughts", that definitely wasn't either, and swaying the ball in mid air, without ever touching it, was just wrong.
Most species don't show any magical ability till puberty, even among weres. To no one's knowledge, an undercurrent of "not human" blood added to the mix meant that Roman was already blossoming psychic abilities by the time he was six. Afraid of standing out or being different from the rest of the young pack, he tried to hide it as much as possible. He also cheated at all his assignments, cause "school sucks."
But no secret stays hidden forever, and the older he got, the more his powers grew. Standing up to one of the older bullies ended fast, when reactionary telekinesis threw the older one against a tree amid a circle of onlookers. Were blood meant the bully healed fast, so there wasn't any permanent damage done ... except to Roman's own reputation.
It was inevitable: 'different' happened. His close friends thought it was the coolest, as young boys are wont to do, though each had a share of envy about it. Some of them had a rather large share of envy, but "flying lessons" and "sharing his cheat sheets" helped lighten the resentment. They just never played ball against him anymore.
That small period of acceptance didn't last long. After being "outed," his educational position was forced to change, too, soon enough. Roman's constant cheating had technically put him far behind everyone else. He was pulled out of regular classes, and put under a tutor - a stronger psychic then he, who had the job of not only catching him up, but in training the too-young mage in how to control his abilities better.
Paying attention to who fought who and which man lead that place was an epic tale of boredom. He was already isolated from the others because of his magic, so he still didn't even try to apply himself. He managed C's on a good day. Thankfully, his magic lessons were more interesting, and his tutor capitalized on his interest in sports to fine tune his telekinesis.
He didn't realize it at the time, but it was precisely because he was different that when he was ten, the best thing that could have happened to him did: he got a family. Children with magic fit better with parents who are mages themselves, and the werewolf enchanter/fey warden couple had wanted to give a child a family for a long time. Several visits and a lot of paperwork later, Ferr and Maria took him home as a Valence.
The family unit just clicked. Maria would have rather his grades were better, but Ferr's physical work appealed to Roman from the get-go. It turned out the family was well-off enough that they could also continue his tutoring sessions, and still leave him time to hang out with his friends from the orphanage. By the time they were in seventh grade, tutoring and summer school had finally brought him back up to where he was supposed to be at a solid C. Life was going well and shining bright. He was happy - very happy ... then puberty happened.
Puberty is a rough time for any kid. For were kids, its even rougher as their bodies start undergoing two different kinds of changes. It helped that Roman had his new father to look up to in that regard, on an island full of people like themselves. Ferr demonstrated the change for him before then, but as Roman quickly approached his own first change, the new dad found himself fielding a lot more questions. Some of the others in Roman's childhood pack had already had theirs, and so the pair of weres began expectantly spending their full moons together in their home's cage room.
They went several moons like that, without incident, just waiting. Roman was almost wondering if anything would happen at all - if the curse had somehow missed him or if someone had gotten his records wrong and he really wasn't a were after all, if he was just special and immune, whatever, something. Then one day in fall, while the pair of them were playing cards, it finally happened… but no one could have expected it to play out the way it did.
It started out normal enough. Blood boiled. Bones lengthened painfully. Muscles stretched, broke, grew bigger and denser. Nails became claws, teeth became fangs, and fur sprouted quickly over a body just starting to get chest hair. The first time was agony, but Ferr stayed with him, trying to talk him through it. He was rapidly shaping up to be a werewolf like Ferr (albeit much smaller) ... except he didn't stop there.
The wings came out first. As Roman screamed and Ferr held him, the leathery appendages pushed out for air, beating down as if to take off right there in the locked room. When Ferr wouldn't let go, and the beast instincts hit Roman like a train, then it got worse. Arrow-head tendrils lashed out, slashing and stabbing at the were twice his size, doing more than a little harm in the process.
He didn't know how long Ferr had fought with him or how long he'd been uncontrollable. When his senses got back to his own, he was still being hugged, his cheeks were wet, and a large amount of blood had gotten everywhere else. The black-furred, bat-winged monster gave a sniffle.
"Ai'm not normal, am Ai?"
His (adoptive, his mind stressed) parents tried to make him feel better. They tried to explain that everyone was different, that differences weren't always bad and that it was their differences that had brought them together as a family. They tried, and it had sort of worked. He tried to sleep the next morning, but despite his exhaustion, he still had too many thoughts in his head. He started going down the stairs for a drink, when he heard his parents talking.
"Ai mean, Ai just don't know. The wings, the ... the tails? Tails, plural ... Ai'd say that sounds a little demon to me..."
"It had to have been one of his parents. It explains where the magic came from, but ... how do we even deal with something like this?"
"Do we ... contact the adoption agency? The Wardens?"
"We have to … don't we?"
He didn't listen for the rest. He was already shoving things into a backpack, grabbing his cap and bat and climbing out the window. Then he ran. He ran and ran, and he held his cap tight over his eyes. If he was older, he might have been able to think more clearly about it. To him, at that time, young and tired and scared and alone and betrayed, running away from the city was the best idea.
His parents didn't realize he was gone till late that day, when Maria went to check to see if he wanted to wake up for dinner. They left immediately in a parental panic, but he'd had a several hour head start and Ferr wasn't the best tracker. By then, Roman had already been picked up by one of the wild packs. Keeping quiet about his magic and "other things," there was still enough for a young boy to do that they brought him back to their cave. The previous omega seemed especially happy to have a new arrival. He learned why soon enough, when dinner was brought in, and then taken by everyone else. He was last in line. Then he wasn't just sad and lonely and tired. Then he was sad and lonely and tired and hungry. Thoughts of leaving to find his own dinner were quickly denied, as the older weres began stealing his things.
Self control quickly disintegrated in his emotional state, and frustrations boiled over like the blood in his veins. A single telekinetic blast was followed by a rapid transformation into the beast, the monster. Arrow-tipped tendrils speared through the next attacker unwise enough to want to hit back, then threw him away. The bullying backed off then, before the Alpha finally intervened...
Ferr and Maria arrived an hour later. Denial of entrance at the cave entrance saw a broad-shouldered brown werewolf and a pissed off fey warrioress dragging the groaning guards into the cave behind them.
"The guards wouldn't answer, so we'll ask again," the woman said loudly and irately. "We are looking for - our son" her tone dropped to affection as she spied Roman, sitting next to the Alpha by the fire. He looked back for a moment, eyes wide in surprise.
"Mom," he whispered, before turning his head to look away.
"The Wardens are not in power here. Leave," the Alpha ordered, simmering rage rising at the unrequested presence.
"Romy," Ferr said aloud, concern obviously on the edge of his voice. "It's time to come home."
"We made your favorite," Maria chimed in. "Chili hot dogs and cheese fries..."
The Alpha stood up. Roman didn't.
"Roman is a member of our pack now," the thickly built man said back, slowly making his way around the fire between them. "He's not going anywhere. His home is here now."
"Don't be absurd. He's our son," Maria shot back. "He belongs with us."
"He belongs to us," the Alpha beat his chest territorially. "He's ours now, and we will protect him from you, the Wardens, and anyone who might send him away."
"We're not going to send him away," Ferr returned, confused and glancing to all three figures while the silent crowd kept threatening watch.
"Ai heard you," Roman interjected, with the annoyance of one calling his parents on a blatant lie. "Ai heard you talking about it. You were gonna call the wardens, and, and the agency!"
The words stung like a whip.
"Yes, we talked about that, but not to send you away," Maria tried to explain. "Roman, we care for you! We want to do the best for you, but we couldn't have predicted what happened last night. None of us could, and we can't help you if we don't know what we're dealing with. That's what we want: we want to help you, with whatever you're going through."
"He doesn't need/your help," the Alpha growled, his voice two steps from a roar. The fire itself seemed to rise in reciprocating anger. "He's special, powerful, and a worthy addition to our pack. He'll make us stronger - help us expand our territory even more."
"We don't care how powahful he is or what he can do," Ferr returned, and he seemed as much as talking past the Alpha as to Roman. "He's our son and we'll always love him, no mattah how smart he is, how strong he is or how talented he is. He's loving and kind and considahrate, and that's the best we could hope for. He's our son. We chose him. We love him... and we're taking him home."
"He is part of our pack, and you will not!!" the beast of a man roared back, putting all seats on edge in the audience. "We have already decided, and you will not take him from here without a fight!"
The audience cheered in what they thought was their victory, jeering at who they thought were the losers.
"Then I challenge you for leadahship of this pack," the brown werewolf of a father said loud enough for all to hear - and all did, and shut up. "One on one. No weapons, no magic. Man to man."
The pot simmered, bubbled, and spilled raging waters everywhere. The alpha hulked out slowly, growling all the while, tiger stripes lining quickly-grown fur, until the growl became another roar. "Beast to beast!"
The two giant creatures fought by the cave firelight, savage expression of feral might that only ended when one was pinned down by the throat and scrabbling for mercy. The loser tapped out, so to speak, and to the victor went the spoils. Roman looked up at the towering, bleeding body. The paw rested gently on his shoulder, as the beast took a knee to bring his face closer down to the youth's eye level.
"Come on, Romy," Ferr said, the soft, pleading noise so strange from the big, wounded beast. "Let's go home, togethah…"
Ferr's broad chest hid Roman's waterworks well. The rest of the pack did nothing to stop their departure after that. Physically and emotionally exhausted, it wasn't long before Ferr was picking him up in his arms and carrying him the rest of the way.
He woke up in the comfort of his bed, in the sanctity of what he finally remembered was his own home. Ferr was asleep, crashing after two days of physical exertion and blood loss. Maria had found herself a corner of his room to read a book, to watch and wait. She wanted to be there when he woke up, just in case he needed something.
They talked for a long time after that, about what had happened, what might happen, and most importantly, where to go from here. That last part was the easiest.
"Nowhere. We don't have to go anywhere, Romy."
"But... Ai'm ... A ... A demon? Or part demon... or ... something..."
"So? That doesn't mean you have to go anywhere."
"But, you guys said -"
"You're different, Romy. That's true. But everyone is different somehow. And differences aren't always bad. I told you that already. You're our son, Roman. We love you. That hasn't stopped, because you … grew bat wings or had a rough first time or ran away. That hasn't stopped. And it'll never stop, Romy. No matter what you do, no matter where you go ... we'll love you. Whatever happens from here on out ... we'll take it in stride. Together."
And they did. Roman wasn't done growing up, and he wasn't done changing, and plenty of both happened in the years to follow. His eyes were the biggest concern for them. They'd always been a little photosensitive growing up, which is why he wore the cap so often, but after his first transformation, they steadily got worse and worse. Within a year, they'd gotten bad enough that daylight was outright painful and even shades weren't covering it.
Visits to the doctor finally proved insistent enough to merit a real scan, only to come to the conclusion that "Nothing's wrong. This is how his eyes are supposed to be." His night vision was extremely good, however, and even more strangely, the scan showed the part of his brain devoted to interpreting sound was much more developed than in the average person. His official diagnosis was that it was simply one of the bleed effects of the curse, and that they might even consider actively cultivating that skill instead of seeking a magical fix.
Roman made the choice himself, not to reject what was normal for him, even if that wasn't normal for others. He experimented around the house first, trying to get by without opening his eyes. His mind really was primed for the task, and it adapted fast in the months to follow. Before long, he could get around just as well as his other friends by day, and by night, he got around even better. For school, his parents still acquired a pair of highly tinted goggles to completely protect his eyes.
School at least was a constant: he made tons of friends, he did well at sports, but he just didn't do well in class. They'd long since gotten over that, and though he still managed enough to pass, Roman's own interest in Ferr's livelihood mattered more. He had plenty of on-the-job training side by side with his father. Sure, he kept forgetting some of the symbols, but that he even managed to adopt his father's runic enchantments at all was an accomplishment.
He got rowdier in his later teens, as blood began to burn for more and more excitement. While his parents weren't especially happy with the idea, they didn't stop him from running wild in summer break. He came home for dinner each day, then spent the rest of it out with his friends, running the wilds, looking for trouble, getting into it, getting out of it. There were times it was incredibly fun, and other times it was a chore. After the second summer, he'd experienced it enough to know it could be a great vacation, but he'd rather live in a real house with toilet paper.
High school ended with Roman sure of where he was going to be: in his father's forge. Two pairs of enchanting hands doubled their output, and gave Roman the chance to work according to his own (partially nocturnal) schedule. Of course, being a relatively good-looking were in perfect control of both sides, he also attracted the attention of the were clothing line by Calvin Lycan. A few photoshoots put a nice bit of money in his pocket, too.
But after awhile, the pair started getting requests from the Dragon Knight's were outreach program. Ferr had already gotten job offers from them in the past, but it felt wrong to him to displace Roman while growing up. Yet a forger/enchanter of Ferr's level, were or not, was talent that should be put to greater use. With Roman grown up and following in his footsteps, that was twice the appeal. So a little over a year after his graduation, the family decided to move to Alexandria. Unhappy to leave the only land he'd ever known, but excited to see all that he hadn't, Roman went with them with his eyes metaphorically open. A few psychological checks later, just to verify their control, and the family was headed to Alexandria.
The family has lived there since in between Columbia and the Keep, with a sizeable house suited to their needs (work related and otherwise). Maria runs an additional store in Columbia itself, selling and taking orders, among several "side businesses" she runs. As far as weres go, Ferr and Roman have been very lucky about not drawing the ire of the public, but they've still seen their share of the not-subtle were-hate. It's unnerving, in so much contrast to the prevailing attitudes on Damian's Isle, but Roman is determinedly trying not to let that affect him.
He's a forger, he's a lover, he's a helper, and he won't let a few unhappy people stop him from enjoying himself. Who knows - there are certainly more people to see and so much more to do. Maybe something special will happen. Some day.
Contact: PM me
Intentions: Neutral/Forger
Background
Name: Roman Valence
Race: Werelord
Species: Wolf, Demon Heritage
Age: 20
Tier: 3
Social
Place of Birth: Damian's Isle
Allegiances: Indirectly loyal to the Dragon Knights, financially and ideally
Aspirations: To live as normal a life as possible, possibly become a drover
Nicknames: Ro (By his friends), Romy (By his parents), Stud (Not by his parents)
Titles: None
Relatives: Ferr M. Valence (adoptive father), Marianna Valence, (adoptive mother), John O'Ryan (biological father, absent), Anna O'Ryan (biological mother, deceased)
Significant Other: plenty of others. None that significant, yet.
Mental
Personality: Roman's attitude is largely ruled by two elements: compassion, and adrenaline. In regards to the first, he tends to love almost everyone he sees. The opposite is even more true: he has trouble hating anyone. While that might just be because he hasn't met the right (or perhaps, the wrong) person, he also has a tendency to look beyond the surface - not with any assurance of finding, but optimistically searching for a kernel of goodness all the same. As such, he has a tremendous capacity for forgiveness and understanding, and is always willing to console those who need somebody to lean on. He's also always willing to do something for a high. A highly physical person, the rush of adrenaline is his drug of choice, and if the dancing partner is right, he's almost always up for a rush of a different kind. If he could spend his days laboring and his nights dancing, he'd be completely satisfied. He wouldn't want for anything more. Or so he tells himself. His subconscious has other ideas.
Likes: Physical labor, working with his hands, flying by night, night in general, dreaming, all kinds of meat
Dislikes: Reading books, being unable to console people, bright lights, arrogance, vegetables of all kinds
Strengths: He's developed a surprisingly strong sense of philosophy in learning how to deal with others and his own life, logical yet understanding. He's a listener, slow to judge and eager to help, and when he puts his mind to a task, attacks it with single-minded devotion. With his neutral, blasé yet positive attitude, he can remain calm and in control of his emotions in most situations, rarely getting angry or depressed.
Weaknesses: Like many "bleeding hearts," Roman has developed coping skills to get where he is. He, however, tends to overcompensate by following a simple rule: "only help those right in front of you." In following that rule, Roman has not only been forced to put metaphorical (and literal) blinders on, but has gone out of his way to avoid further responsibility. Also, though not naive by any means, he'll cop right to it: he's not the smartest person around - and that's fine by him. He has about as little motivation to get smarter as to change the world. If that means he needs a calculator to figure out multiples greater than five, or can't remember who the president was 20 years ago, so be it.
Physical
Major Details: Tan skin, ice blue eyes, short scruffy blond hair, facial scruff, 6'4" in human form - short black fur, large ears, 7'6" in werewolf form.
Appearance: The first thing most people notice is his grin: an incorrigible, mischievous grin all the way to the cheeks, brimming with confidence and optimism and threatening to do something else. Both his short hair and facial hair is scruffy and brownish blonde, giving off an overall appearance of gleeful nonchalance more akin to a surfer then a forger. That he has spent most of his teen life as the latter means that his body itself is muscularly athletic, toned and defined from physical work rather than built up from weightlifting. With an almost primal desire like some other werecreatures to wear as little as he can get away, that also means viewers frequently have the opportunity to count all eight abs down his front amid the white blonde downy hair that covers various parts of his body.
When transformed, his body takes on many of the characteristically lupine traits of the infamous werewolf, but with several subtle hints of something more. His teeth are large and razor sharp, even by were standards. Ice blue eyes practically glow at night. His ears are big and radar-like, more like some bats than a wolf's, and his oversized feet possess almost hand-like dexterity. His fur in this state is a short, obsidian black, clinging to his much larger physique - yet even with the associated physical growth of the transformation that makes him far bigger and stronger than any human, Roman's were form looks "lean" by were standards. To someone not paying much attention, he could almost pass as an exceptionally tall, muscularly athletic Wolffolk. Almost. The more feral, if not outright monstrous, qualities always shine through eventually.
When he channels his demonic side more fully, he can selectively bring out up to four other limbs - something he can do in either his human or were form. Two large leathery wings can sprout from his upper back, looking obviously bat-like in origin, and below them, a pair of long, whip-like tentacles can extend from his lower back, with full prehensile control of both of them. Similar to the "demonic tail" imagery, the tips can extend arrowhead-like prongs, and easily stab through obstacles with the force of a spear.
Natural Abilities: Roman has the abilities of a well-built man of his size, capable of lifting two hundred pounds and then some without factoring in his Enhanced Strength. His speed is no better or worse than an average athletic human normally. His were form likewise increases his speed and strength appropriately, and his hearing also increases dramatically. In either state, his mind has a highly developed (read: inhuman) ability to process sound, to the point of echolocation.
Natural Traits: Roman has the usual human traits untransformed. As a werewolf, he gains claws on his hands and feet, and powerful jaws to go with all his sharp canine fangs.
Strengths: Roman's body possesses remarkable endurance, with stamina to spare for most any physical activity. Whatever he's doing, there's a good chance he could go all night, nap for a few hours, then start up again. Big hands, well-used over the years, are as good with delicate polishing as they are at holding his body weight, suspended off the ground. The former of course feeds into his proficiency as a young forger and enchanter. The latter feeds into activities like rock wall climbing and parkour of course.
Weaknesses: He's no fighter. Roman has little to no combat experience, beyond a few bar room brawls. His reflexes and expectations are suited more toward running fast and dancing, then dodging fast and predicting another's attacks. Perhaps because of his were side, his demon side, or just the general mixture of the two, Roman also has several intense, physical cravings that he still fights with. He's an adrenaline junkie, with an over-developed sense of lust, and a few other dark undertones to rein in. His eyes are also incredibly photosensitive, to the point of extreme pain in midday, and he frequently must use a blindfold or shades to get by.
Magical
Specializations:
- Tier 1: Mental (Psychic), Proficiency 3.
- Tier 2: Written (Runes), Proficiency 3.
- Tier 3: Mental (Paradox), Proficiency 3. Roman can use his magic to "screw the rules" of reality, such as being in two (or more) places at once, creating something from nothing or making something nothing, or generally toying with gravity.
Visual Display: Roman's psychic and runic magic tends to glow with an orange wispy, almost firey light. Paradox magic veers more to a black and white celestial appearance.
Special Abilities:
Tier 0: Enhanced Recovery 1
Tier 1: Psychometry
Tier 2: Insight
Tier 3: Foresight
Bonus Special Abilities: En Strength 1, En Toughness 1, En Recovery 2
Heritage: En Sense (Hearing)
Transformed: En Strength 2
Unique Abilities: Roman can channel his demon heritage to grow bat-like wings and a pair of arrow-head tipped tentacles from his back.
Strengths: Roman has had the longest to get accustomed to his Psychic powers. He's an accomplished telepath and telekinetic, and (while he's rarely used it offensively) the advanced, pyrokinetic version of that makes forging an easier task: he always has flames on hand. While not as good an enchanter as his father, Ferr's tutelage has made him great in his own right. His heritage has also given him a greater endurance for casting to begin with, and he doesn't wear out as fast as some other mind mages do.
Weaknesses: Enchanting anything requires the right words, and Roman, with his intelligence, doesn't always remember them. He still uses a runic dictionary to get by sometimes. His own, personal brand of magic only showed up in the last two years, so he only knows how to use it for a few select tricks - and each trick has it's own problem. Being in two places at once tends to put a big strain on his focus, so he can't use it for too long and he can't create magical things from nothing. Trying to make a Phoenix feather just makes a Phoenix-looking feather. Conversely, to erase something magical takes a proportionate amount of power.
Inventory
Mundane: wallet
Magical: none
History
Growing up an orphan is rarely easy. Growing up an orphan on Damian's Isle, with the keen awareness that one day you'll turn into a monster, is even harder. Thankfully, there were at least a few mitigating circumstances in the young were-to-be's life that made his childhood passable, if not at least better then most young weres on the other side of the barrier.
Misery loves company, and with the frequently violent lifestyle forced upon most weres, the orphanage had no shortage of arrivals. Some were children bitten, survivors lacking in willing relatives to receive them until puberty. Others, like himself, were the child of were parentage, who for one reason or another, weren't a part of their life anymore. Roman's mother was said to have died in childbirth. His father ... left early. Or so he was told. He never met either.
But however they got there, it just didn't matter that much. They were kids. The lingering knowledge of their future didn't bother them as much, isolated as they were from most "normal" human beings. They, a "pack" of werekids, were normal to each other. They played ball like normal kids. They went to the beach like normal kids. They had annoying teachers and cheated off each other like normal kids. The monthly curfew before moon-rise was all most of them had ever known, so that didn't seem too bad. With their own kind, there was a rarely-found sense of normalcy...
Except for Roman. Among his companions, he was well-liked, amicable, talented at sports and seemingly always there when someone was down. With his ever present baseball cap, he seemed happy, positive, and well adjusted. If someone had been paying more attention, they might have noticed there was something off about him. Thing of it is, "hearing voices" isn't part of being a were. "Hearing voices that are actually other people's thoughts", that definitely wasn't either, and swaying the ball in mid air, without ever touching it, was just wrong.
Most species don't show any magical ability till puberty, even among weres. To no one's knowledge, an undercurrent of "not human" blood added to the mix meant that Roman was already blossoming psychic abilities by the time he was six. Afraid of standing out or being different from the rest of the young pack, he tried to hide it as much as possible. He also cheated at all his assignments, cause "school sucks."
But no secret stays hidden forever, and the older he got, the more his powers grew. Standing up to one of the older bullies ended fast, when reactionary telekinesis threw the older one against a tree amid a circle of onlookers. Were blood meant the bully healed fast, so there wasn't any permanent damage done ... except to Roman's own reputation.
It was inevitable: 'different' happened. His close friends thought it was the coolest, as young boys are wont to do, though each had a share of envy about it. Some of them had a rather large share of envy, but "flying lessons" and "sharing his cheat sheets" helped lighten the resentment. They just never played ball against him anymore.
That small period of acceptance didn't last long. After being "outed," his educational position was forced to change, too, soon enough. Roman's constant cheating had technically put him far behind everyone else. He was pulled out of regular classes, and put under a tutor - a stronger psychic then he, who had the job of not only catching him up, but in training the too-young mage in how to control his abilities better.
Paying attention to who fought who and which man lead that place was an epic tale of boredom. He was already isolated from the others because of his magic, so he still didn't even try to apply himself. He managed C's on a good day. Thankfully, his magic lessons were more interesting, and his tutor capitalized on his interest in sports to fine tune his telekinesis.
He didn't realize it at the time, but it was precisely because he was different that when he was ten, the best thing that could have happened to him did: he got a family. Children with magic fit better with parents who are mages themselves, and the werewolf enchanter/fey warden couple had wanted to give a child a family for a long time. Several visits and a lot of paperwork later, Ferr and Maria took him home as a Valence.
The family unit just clicked. Maria would have rather his grades were better, but Ferr's physical work appealed to Roman from the get-go. It turned out the family was well-off enough that they could also continue his tutoring sessions, and still leave him time to hang out with his friends from the orphanage. By the time they were in seventh grade, tutoring and summer school had finally brought him back up to where he was supposed to be at a solid C. Life was going well and shining bright. He was happy - very happy ... then puberty happened.
Puberty is a rough time for any kid. For were kids, its even rougher as their bodies start undergoing two different kinds of changes. It helped that Roman had his new father to look up to in that regard, on an island full of people like themselves. Ferr demonstrated the change for him before then, but as Roman quickly approached his own first change, the new dad found himself fielding a lot more questions. Some of the others in Roman's childhood pack had already had theirs, and so the pair of weres began expectantly spending their full moons together in their home's cage room.
They went several moons like that, without incident, just waiting. Roman was almost wondering if anything would happen at all - if the curse had somehow missed him or if someone had gotten his records wrong and he really wasn't a were after all, if he was just special and immune, whatever, something. Then one day in fall, while the pair of them were playing cards, it finally happened… but no one could have expected it to play out the way it did.
It started out normal enough. Blood boiled. Bones lengthened painfully. Muscles stretched, broke, grew bigger and denser. Nails became claws, teeth became fangs, and fur sprouted quickly over a body just starting to get chest hair. The first time was agony, but Ferr stayed with him, trying to talk him through it. He was rapidly shaping up to be a werewolf like Ferr (albeit much smaller) ... except he didn't stop there.
The wings came out first. As Roman screamed and Ferr held him, the leathery appendages pushed out for air, beating down as if to take off right there in the locked room. When Ferr wouldn't let go, and the beast instincts hit Roman like a train, then it got worse. Arrow-head tendrils lashed out, slashing and stabbing at the were twice his size, doing more than a little harm in the process.
He didn't know how long Ferr had fought with him or how long he'd been uncontrollable. When his senses got back to his own, he was still being hugged, his cheeks were wet, and a large amount of blood had gotten everywhere else. The black-furred, bat-winged monster gave a sniffle.
"Ai'm not normal, am Ai?"
His (adoptive, his mind stressed) parents tried to make him feel better. They tried to explain that everyone was different, that differences weren't always bad and that it was their differences that had brought them together as a family. They tried, and it had sort of worked. He tried to sleep the next morning, but despite his exhaustion, he still had too many thoughts in his head. He started going down the stairs for a drink, when he heard his parents talking.
"Ai mean, Ai just don't know. The wings, the ... the tails? Tails, plural ... Ai'd say that sounds a little demon to me..."
"It had to have been one of his parents. It explains where the magic came from, but ... how do we even deal with something like this?"
"Do we ... contact the adoption agency? The Wardens?"
"We have to … don't we?"
He didn't listen for the rest. He was already shoving things into a backpack, grabbing his cap and bat and climbing out the window. Then he ran. He ran and ran, and he held his cap tight over his eyes. If he was older, he might have been able to think more clearly about it. To him, at that time, young and tired and scared and alone and betrayed, running away from the city was the best idea.
His parents didn't realize he was gone till late that day, when Maria went to check to see if he wanted to wake up for dinner. They left immediately in a parental panic, but he'd had a several hour head start and Ferr wasn't the best tracker. By then, Roman had already been picked up by one of the wild packs. Keeping quiet about his magic and "other things," there was still enough for a young boy to do that they brought him back to their cave. The previous omega seemed especially happy to have a new arrival. He learned why soon enough, when dinner was brought in, and then taken by everyone else. He was last in line. Then he wasn't just sad and lonely and tired. Then he was sad and lonely and tired and hungry. Thoughts of leaving to find his own dinner were quickly denied, as the older weres began stealing his things.
Self control quickly disintegrated in his emotional state, and frustrations boiled over like the blood in his veins. A single telekinetic blast was followed by a rapid transformation into the beast, the monster. Arrow-tipped tendrils speared through the next attacker unwise enough to want to hit back, then threw him away. The bullying backed off then, before the Alpha finally intervened...
Ferr and Maria arrived an hour later. Denial of entrance at the cave entrance saw a broad-shouldered brown werewolf and a pissed off fey warrioress dragging the groaning guards into the cave behind them.
"The guards wouldn't answer, so we'll ask again," the woman said loudly and irately. "We are looking for - our son" her tone dropped to affection as she spied Roman, sitting next to the Alpha by the fire. He looked back for a moment, eyes wide in surprise.
"Mom," he whispered, before turning his head to look away.
"The Wardens are not in power here. Leave," the Alpha ordered, simmering rage rising at the unrequested presence.
"Romy," Ferr said aloud, concern obviously on the edge of his voice. "It's time to come home."
"We made your favorite," Maria chimed in. "Chili hot dogs and cheese fries..."
The Alpha stood up. Roman didn't.
"Roman is a member of our pack now," the thickly built man said back, slowly making his way around the fire between them. "He's not going anywhere. His home is here now."
"Don't be absurd. He's our son," Maria shot back. "He belongs with us."
"He belongs to us," the Alpha beat his chest territorially. "He's ours now, and we will protect him from you, the Wardens, and anyone who might send him away."
"We're not going to send him away," Ferr returned, confused and glancing to all three figures while the silent crowd kept threatening watch.
"Ai heard you," Roman interjected, with the annoyance of one calling his parents on a blatant lie. "Ai heard you talking about it. You were gonna call the wardens, and, and the agency!"
The words stung like a whip.
"Yes, we talked about that, but not to send you away," Maria tried to explain. "Roman, we care for you! We want to do the best for you, but we couldn't have predicted what happened last night. None of us could, and we can't help you if we don't know what we're dealing with. That's what we want: we want to help you, with whatever you're going through."
"He doesn't need/your help," the Alpha growled, his voice two steps from a roar. The fire itself seemed to rise in reciprocating anger. "He's special, powerful, and a worthy addition to our pack. He'll make us stronger - help us expand our territory even more."
"We don't care how powahful he is or what he can do," Ferr returned, and he seemed as much as talking past the Alpha as to Roman. "He's our son and we'll always love him, no mattah how smart he is, how strong he is or how talented he is. He's loving and kind and considahrate, and that's the best we could hope for. He's our son. We chose him. We love him... and we're taking him home."
"He is part of our pack, and you will not!!" the beast of a man roared back, putting all seats on edge in the audience. "We have already decided, and you will not take him from here without a fight!"
The audience cheered in what they thought was their victory, jeering at who they thought were the losers.
"Then I challenge you for leadahship of this pack," the brown werewolf of a father said loud enough for all to hear - and all did, and shut up. "One on one. No weapons, no magic. Man to man."
The pot simmered, bubbled, and spilled raging waters everywhere. The alpha hulked out slowly, growling all the while, tiger stripes lining quickly-grown fur, until the growl became another roar. "Beast to beast!"
The two giant creatures fought by the cave firelight, savage expression of feral might that only ended when one was pinned down by the throat and scrabbling for mercy. The loser tapped out, so to speak, and to the victor went the spoils. Roman looked up at the towering, bleeding body. The paw rested gently on his shoulder, as the beast took a knee to bring his face closer down to the youth's eye level.
"Come on, Romy," Ferr said, the soft, pleading noise so strange from the big, wounded beast. "Let's go home, togethah…"
Ferr's broad chest hid Roman's waterworks well. The rest of the pack did nothing to stop their departure after that. Physically and emotionally exhausted, it wasn't long before Ferr was picking him up in his arms and carrying him the rest of the way.
He woke up in the comfort of his bed, in the sanctity of what he finally remembered was his own home. Ferr was asleep, crashing after two days of physical exertion and blood loss. Maria had found herself a corner of his room to read a book, to watch and wait. She wanted to be there when he woke up, just in case he needed something.
They talked for a long time after that, about what had happened, what might happen, and most importantly, where to go from here. That last part was the easiest.
"Nowhere. We don't have to go anywhere, Romy."
"But... Ai'm ... A ... A demon? Or part demon... or ... something..."
"So? That doesn't mean you have to go anywhere."
"But, you guys said -"
"You're different, Romy. That's true. But everyone is different somehow. And differences aren't always bad. I told you that already. You're our son, Roman. We love you. That hasn't stopped, because you … grew bat wings or had a rough first time or ran away. That hasn't stopped. And it'll never stop, Romy. No matter what you do, no matter where you go ... we'll love you. Whatever happens from here on out ... we'll take it in stride. Together."
And they did. Roman wasn't done growing up, and he wasn't done changing, and plenty of both happened in the years to follow. His eyes were the biggest concern for them. They'd always been a little photosensitive growing up, which is why he wore the cap so often, but after his first transformation, they steadily got worse and worse. Within a year, they'd gotten bad enough that daylight was outright painful and even shades weren't covering it.
Visits to the doctor finally proved insistent enough to merit a real scan, only to come to the conclusion that "Nothing's wrong. This is how his eyes are supposed to be." His night vision was extremely good, however, and even more strangely, the scan showed the part of his brain devoted to interpreting sound was much more developed than in the average person. His official diagnosis was that it was simply one of the bleed effects of the curse, and that they might even consider actively cultivating that skill instead of seeking a magical fix.
Roman made the choice himself, not to reject what was normal for him, even if that wasn't normal for others. He experimented around the house first, trying to get by without opening his eyes. His mind really was primed for the task, and it adapted fast in the months to follow. Before long, he could get around just as well as his other friends by day, and by night, he got around even better. For school, his parents still acquired a pair of highly tinted goggles to completely protect his eyes.
School at least was a constant: he made tons of friends, he did well at sports, but he just didn't do well in class. They'd long since gotten over that, and though he still managed enough to pass, Roman's own interest in Ferr's livelihood mattered more. He had plenty of on-the-job training side by side with his father. Sure, he kept forgetting some of the symbols, but that he even managed to adopt his father's runic enchantments at all was an accomplishment.
He got rowdier in his later teens, as blood began to burn for more and more excitement. While his parents weren't especially happy with the idea, they didn't stop him from running wild in summer break. He came home for dinner each day, then spent the rest of it out with his friends, running the wilds, looking for trouble, getting into it, getting out of it. There were times it was incredibly fun, and other times it was a chore. After the second summer, he'd experienced it enough to know it could be a great vacation, but he'd rather live in a real house with toilet paper.
High school ended with Roman sure of where he was going to be: in his father's forge. Two pairs of enchanting hands doubled their output, and gave Roman the chance to work according to his own (partially nocturnal) schedule. Of course, being a relatively good-looking were in perfect control of both sides, he also attracted the attention of the were clothing line by Calvin Lycan. A few photoshoots put a nice bit of money in his pocket, too.
But after awhile, the pair started getting requests from the Dragon Knight's were outreach program. Ferr had already gotten job offers from them in the past, but it felt wrong to him to displace Roman while growing up. Yet a forger/enchanter of Ferr's level, were or not, was talent that should be put to greater use. With Roman grown up and following in his footsteps, that was twice the appeal. So a little over a year after his graduation, the family decided to move to Alexandria. Unhappy to leave the only land he'd ever known, but excited to see all that he hadn't, Roman went with them with his eyes metaphorically open. A few psychological checks later, just to verify their control, and the family was headed to Alexandria.
The family has lived there since in between Columbia and the Keep, with a sizeable house suited to their needs (work related and otherwise). Maria runs an additional store in Columbia itself, selling and taking orders, among several "side businesses" she runs. As far as weres go, Ferr and Roman have been very lucky about not drawing the ire of the public, but they've still seen their share of the not-subtle were-hate. It's unnerving, in so much contrast to the prevailing attitudes on Damian's Isle, but Roman is determinedly trying not to let that affect him.
He's a forger, he's a lover, he's a helper, and he won't let a few unhappy people stop him from enjoying himself. Who knows - there are certainly more people to see and so much more to do. Maybe something special will happen. Some day.